The Last Pass

The men of Stone did not have very amicable relations with the men from Attarock but it had never been very fatal either. However, Cyneburg had come to relent his decision. He was forty and one, his years had taken a toll on him. Cyneburg’s skin had changed its color and he had been forced to completely shave his head. but he had kept his long beard.

Beyond the lake people had been known to live for more than a century. The land before the lake, although was another story. There was no barricade from the winds and water. His health was frail and the lands were jeopardous.

He did not care for himself, it was his son, a boy of fifteen that scared him the most. Beside Stryder, Cyneburg only had Daiman and a fair share of uncles and cousins to protect him, but they could not do anything if Attarock was to be sieged.

Stryder was an excellent warrior, a fair disposer of justice and did have a fair share of cunning, but Cyneburg wondered how long and how many would it take his son to put the three of them to good use.

There hadn’t been any sand storm for a few days and he was really grateful for that. He looked at his men and realized that a delay of a few days would mean death.

Of the seven hundred he and Jackob Hall, the administrator of Landbreakers had rallied back towards the east that also included the Elemental guard that Stonians had put together for his kingdom.

Cyneburg knew what they meant. The Stonians had now been the revenue collectors too long and his men and most of the men before the lake had grown suspicious of the westerners and could cause mayhem anytime. So to strengthen their already heavily armed forces in the east, they sent more of their men.

All of this for the petty sum that they had been vilely collecting. As the last place in the Realm from where the last Over Lord, Xereus the First in his lineage, had ruled the Stonians, most of which include men who were or at least claimed to be his descendants, had claimed the minimal revenue.

A rebellion or even a storming would mean death and blood on the hands of his castle and his family. None of the messengers falcons had returned. Cyneburg would order camps at the place where he would liberate the falcons. But they wouldn’t return for days. He had only despatched them for Sal Veor. Any message that reached Sal Veor could be hoped to be delivered safely to his home.

“Administrator Jackob, Jackob Hall!” Cyneburg shouted as Jackob raced past rallying the lines.

“Yes, my King.” The man came back

“I’m no king right now. I made Stryder the King when I left the castle, it is a different thing that he does not acknowledge the fact”

“A move in which I see some wit and some folly. However, why do need me right now Cyne?”

“Oh, is it that way now Jack, a king  or nothing.”Cyneburg smiled wearily but Jackob returned it with an ear to ear grin. Older than him and almost fifty, Jackob was still the fiercest rider that Cyneburg had within his ranks and his most trusted general that Jackob had come across in twenty years. The man was similar to his daughter in many ways, both of them similar hair and eyes and only differed because of Quirina’s outwards poking face. “I believe, you still have your Hawk”

Jackob had detected the grim expression. “I know that we are running out of food, but that does not mean that you will eat my hawk, Cyne.”

Cyneburg laughed at the jest. Almost blind in one eye, Jackob’s hawk was the only thing that warned him of any attack coming in from his left. “I don’t need him for food. Your garron will come before your hawk anyways” it was always fit to return a jest, even in troubled times. “What I need is that my message be delivered to a beyonder. That I need some troops” he gestured to Jackob to come closer “to ambush us and kill as many as these Stonians as possible”

“Pathetic, Disgusting, Unchivalrous!” Jackob spat “why Desert men. Wouldn’t it be most un host type behaviour to kill a fifth of our host just so we are rid of taxes”

“I just mean to do this to rid us of some potential terrors”

“What I meant was that, Cyne, wouldn’t it be mysterious if someone, say a band of hired metals ambushed us and scattered us ” he cocked a brow

“Very, very, and” he smiled “I don’t think that these Stonians would prefer to regroup rather than going back to All Stone” but his brow tightened “however, I do not see how a group of  hired metals will be smart enough in distinguishing between someone they are supposed to kill and supposed to protect”

“Ah! I should have thought of that. Do you know by any chance that there is a small pass. The narrowest of them all, just enough for seven men to pass side by side. Now, if we could be by any chance a bit separated . By, say a standard bearer who was known to the hired metals.” Cyneburg started smiling “What’s that smile, Cyne?”

“Its a smile wishing that tomorrow comes faster”

Chapter 3

The Summoning

It was warm like never before and Quirina had been summoned, or as the sentries would say to soften that - ‘requested in court’.

Lambert was standing alone in the court’s throne door. It was a kind of back stage where administrators and ladies rehearsed vile news that they oft brought with them before announcing them beside the high seat of the administrator of Landbreaker isles.

The short old man was going through informative papers, scratching his recently shaved face. As a sign of grief Lambert had shave his beard when Quirina’s father left for the Stone. He was a man well past his forties and most of his hair had abandoned him which contrasted with the fact that his eyes seemed to climb his forehead and his nose was slashed. Lambert had done most of Quirina’s work while her father was at the Stone. So, whatever work required of her must have been one of a diplomatic purpose. She had cut her hair short but still her head seemed to heat up like a hearth“What is it Lambert?”

“Quirina” very few dare call Quirina by her name but she did not mind when Lambert, who was as important in her royal life as her father, did so. He gave her a gentle kiss on the hand. “A messenger is here a rather important one”

“A messenger” when he said that her heart started thumping. Her father was off for the Stone in the black slate of the night without the  Royal Guard. But she dare not show her anxiousness. People and messengers seldom rode half their way into the lakes and onto the isles just to inform of bad news when the message was grief.

Quirina’s hawk zoomed into the room and perched atop her stop rib. Castle or not, Quirina was eternally in an armor “Must be a good bearer” she opened the heavy throne door “I’ll deal with him”

“No…” But she had already burst into the room. The messenger too was in armor. The silver grey was a kind of offense to the all the displays. But the armor was way too splendid for his prescribed stature and left no sign of skin or leather, making the wearer look like a man of metal. There was the eclipsed Sun of Attarock painted on the overcloth over his armor. And almost as an act of blasphemy the man had chosen to wear his helmet.

“Greetings, administratorQuirina Hall. I am here from Attarock.”

“Then you have come a long way. Tell me, without delay what is the purpose of your visit.” Quirina was too excited and aghast at the same time. She took a seat on her father’s seat “Has administrator of Attarock, what was his name…?” A few maids sighed as if her words had insulted them. They were not from Attarock, they were Landbreakers. She gave a frown of disappointment, such trivial facts should not have troubled the descendents of one of the most tough, cut throat people in The Realm.

“No, administrator Cyneburg is yet to return from the Stone, same as the administrator of the Landbreakers”the messenger said.

“Then, my good man, why are you here. I don’t think you are a messenger. Remove your helm.” her hawk screeched in agreement “Even if you are the Overlord, which you can’t be because they die as soon as they come into power”Half the court laughed. Lambert slipped or rather fell and picked himself up and regained his posture “Why is everyone so dull today? So”  she fixed her eyes upon the eye slit “come here, and remove that helmet, Knight of the Eclipse and what not.” she smiled and left the seat for the Prince’s royal bottom

“Oh, so you do recognize me.” Stryder climbed up the stairs of the stage. He warmly hugged her and he removed his helmet.

“Of course. A man with such false titles is sporadically forgotten. Not to mention your pale skin. Very few live men can claim that shade for their skin and that pale shade of purple for those ridiculous eyes.” Again the court gasped but Quirina knew that a man such as Stryder was rarely hurt by words Sword and sticks can sometimes be useless in front of words. But not for the people of Attarock.

“As can no one forget your hedgehog excuse for  hair.”

“Why do you bless us with us your royal presence, oh royal this of royal that.” A few people again gasped and that amused Stryder very much. He laughed as he set back into the chair. Quirina chose a chair right next to him.

“For some really serious reasons I must say. Now” he donned a the ruler’s tone but still smiled “to address serious matters. We have to...”

“Afterwards, prince. First let us amaze the court of how did the Prince get such a stunning dress.” Some court holders fainted as if she had declared war on Attarock and Landbreakers was going to be plundered “shut up people!” she shouted in a most not accustomed to court tone and then gently turned to Stryder “yes, so, I  hope you are not hurt. Can you now tell where did you get that dress.”

“Oh, I was confronted by nine people and they asked me to slay a creature and was promised gifts” Quirina smirked, almost sure that Stryder was joking. But he had a straight face and that reduced her smirk to an uncertain smile “nine gifts, not just two or three”

“Was that a full moon night, by any chance?” Quirina asked.

“Oh, so you people do know that. So, I was put in the front of the beast.” everyone was confused, not sure whether they were being mocked or tested if they could keep a straight face “Except it wasn’t a beast! It was one of those mountain lions that are so hard to catch, I did think that no one would believe me I had slain one or seen one unless they had seen me with it. So, I ask…”

“‘Why shall I slay the beast?’, that is enough of your mocking, oh Knight of the Eclipse. Everyone knows the story of the ‘Kindness of the administrator’, and let me guess, they gave it to you without any combat”

“No.Just listen. So, I ended its life after hours of battle. Its skin was as hard as the armor I wore and when I killed him I was given the prizes. And the lion.”

“I think you haven’t had sleep, young prince, you just said you killed him”

“I sure did. He was returned to life. I was told that the man who kills him, controls him. Here I’ll call him.”

Stryder did not say a single word but Quirina knew that there had been an invitation to the feline and mist fell into the castle as men hushed to herald the arrival of the cat.

It was a grand thing. Although seeming to blend to most of the dark court, the cat seemed to attract enough attention.

The feline silently crept up to the high seat followed by the Attarock Sentinels “People say that I have kicked off the Age of Conquest by disagreeing to the new terms of the taxes and removing administrators from the city states. But I have just given us a reason to test the sharpness of our blades.” Said the king, half sitting, half dangling from the seat.

Chapter 2

The Prodigal Son returns

                There was a heavy knock on the door. Daiman Resark understood that he had locked himself longer than he should have. He batted his eyes twice or thrice, slowly getting out of his bed Daiman adjusted his tunic and vest.  “I am coming.”

                There were footsteps, the young prince understood that whoever was out had gone. He flexed his muscles a bit before he picked up a mirror. He looked into it, he did not know what to expect but the mirror failed to elevate his mood anyhow. His eyes were the same blood red as they had been, his irises still strikingly crimson.As long as his face was concerned, Daiman had a good frame, admired and loved by many but his face never did content him, Running his hand through his curly hair, Daiman walked out of his room.

                 Swiftly reaching for his short sword he descended from his tower. Beneath the tower, the halls were lighted with dim streak capacited torches, marble statues of legendary heroes stood vigil. Even though Daiman had spent most of his childhood exploring them, the halls of the palace of Attarock remained a mystery to him.  Every time that he bent down by a corner or lowered his eyes, there would be some part that he felt he was noticing for the first time.

                It isn’t the first time you idiot, you have seen so many things that you are forgetting the older things. Daiman smiled when he remembered what Styder had said. The crown prince of Attarock was Daiman’s brother, mentor and had many times acted as a father would. But Stryder wasn’t here. Neither was their father, King Cyneburg.

                Shushing the negative thoughts, Daiman headed towards the High Hall. All the halls that lead to the High Hall were heavily guarded and better lit than the halls beneath Daiman’s tower. The walls at the end of the hall were decorated with flags of the Priest Federation. Hans was observing one of them.

                They looked absolutely disgusting to Daiman. Two black circle enclosed triangles that were connected by the same horizontal tanget. When Daiman went to Hans the short man spoke softly “The Scales of Sunniva.”

                   Daiman looked at them with contempt, then spat. Hans looked at him as if he had spat at him, his small eyes lowered themselves but Daiman could see the detestation that the scholar carried. Paying no heed, he pushed the large ivory doors, directly entering the curved High Hall. True to its designation, the halls were one hundred and fifty feet high – speckled with balconies veiled by translucent sparkling silver, from where the women of the royal families would observe the processions below.

             When he entered the hall, Daiman knew he was facing the best trained warriors in the northern deserts. Not exactly facing, they had their faces turned away. There was the High Priest, bald and ageing, just right of the seat on which the patriarch of the Resark family would seat himself. Rather, the patriarch of the Rock family, Resark was the name that people from noble lines called the Rocks.

                   The seats that faced the High Seats were arranged in a segment of a circle fashion. There were two paths leading to the elevated tables that were surrounded by the High Seats. Daiman's mother, his uncles Chad and Pierk were waiting for him, A High Priest and his words on a High Seat, As worthy as a brown sheep's bleat.

                  He was only able to see the High Priest's face. The man was way above seventy, he had lived ten years than he should have. His face was an eyesore. Watery grey eyes bulged out of a completely bald face, his nose was an abrupt stroke on broken canvas. The Priest had as many followers as he had haters. He had a notorious reputation for burning anything that opposed religion. 

                    Daiman took the left way, for no reason.His footsteps reverberated in the silent hall, his knee high sandals made more noise than all of the men that talked in whispers. All of them turned to face Daiman, he felt as if someone had directed a cold wind towards him.

Chapter 1

1:The Prince and the Woods

            

The woods were as quiet as the haunted hills that Stryder feared for most of his childhood. He had woken up feeling his best, but the day had turned out to be pretty bad. Complaining would do him no good, the Priest Federation already had problems with the Kingdom. Returning without something on an auspicious hunt day would spoil the image he and his family had. 
There was no wind to make the flag that hung by the back of his saddle flutter. An impression of the castle which belonged to Stryder's grandfather, or had belonged to him was embedded into it. Some said that Bold Castle that was embedded on King Cyneburg's flag was lost somewhere in near Lakelixir, some had suggested it lay somewhere in White Sands. That was a territory that his family had lost in the previous war, or was it the war before that? Stryder could not care less about the past. King Cyneburg, his father was not heard of since he had left the Peace Conference. The only reason Stryder remained seated on the throne was the support of the Defense forces along with that of the Elemental Guard and the Priest Federation.

It was very hot and Stryder’s T-shirt started sticking to his back. His long dark hair seemed to prick his skin on the back of his neck. It was sad how things that you loved could very well hurt you.

He whistled, a guard came up to him. All of them wore plain clothes, as his mother had instructed him. Giving the people the feeling that a Prince was not comfortable in his own kingdom would be seen as a good move.

"What were my mother's instructions?"

"Do not return empty handed." The guard answered, his hand on his sword. He was well dressed, grey-gold sweater on a sport t-shirt. With a clean shave and crop cut, he probably looked more of a prince than Stryder did.

"You are one of the Elite Guard aren't you?" Stryder asked, popping a piece of gum from the pocket of his riding jeans.
"Affirmative, Prince Stryder."
"How many of you are there?" Stryder leaned forward on his saddle.
"About eight more, three silent followers." The man lowered his head, probably aware of what was going to follow.
"Then why can't a single one of you find any animal in a forest which is supposed to be full of them?" Stryder shouted. The man opened his mouth but did not say anything. "Get going, tell mother I will be back soon, and here," Stryder took off his giant sword. "Get this to my brother, do not let anyone touch it."
As Stryder took it off to give it to the man, he nearly fell of the horse taking off the sword. Even the man looked harassed by its weight. Stryder swept the sweat off his brow, and pushed back his long hair. "Cross-bow." He shouted again.
The same man he gave his sword to, gave him a blazing red cross-bow with neon accents. Stryder tilted his head to one side. "Come on man, how much do you hate your job? And if you answer that question, I swear I will push you off to some security force in the far East."
"Sorry, Prince Stryder." The man had his head bowed, soon he managed to get another one. It was grey, olive and a bit broken around the edges. "It is a bit old, but works like a new one."
Stryder accepted the cross-bow, trying not to fall off. That one was as heavy as the previous one. There was a quiver on the back of the horse, Stryder took out three arrows and carefully attached them to the cross bow, throwing the rest away.
"Tell mother I will be back by midnight."

It was way past midnight, that didn't matter. The woods retained their darkness in each hour of the day. Some found the omnipresent earthly hue comforting, while some found nothing else as uncomfortable as it. Stryder still hadn't caught anything of interest. Why do I have to be so arrogant? he rubbed his eyes with his left hand, resting his cross-bow on his right shoulder.
He saw something moving, he wasn't sure if he had been hallucinating. Carefully aiming for the dark trees where he thought he had seen something move about. There was a noise, somewhere to his right. His head bolted to the right, shoulders following in the same direction.
It was a white stag, a good omen. He kissed the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand. One hand on the trigger, another one on the bottom of the front portion, Stryder sucked his breath in. He was about to release the trigger when someone knocked the life out of his back. Stryder arched his back as he turned his head - to find an old woman standing right behind him with a staff in her hand.
He gave her a scowl, that would have otherwise melted an official, but it was to no effect. "What exactly are you trying to do with that face boy?" The woman hit Stryder again on the waist, "get down boy. Hasn't anybody taught you that you should not to talk to a lady on the ground while you are mounted?"
Stryder gave a laugh, "the lady of where?"
"Someplace important, that is for sure." The woman came forward, snatched Stryder's cross-bow while her other hand pulled Stryder off the horse. "What is this, eh? These are the parts of the Sanctuary, with who's permission did you bring a weapon in here?" She had dropped the cross-bow , but her other hand twisted Stryder's right hand.
"Leave me, I am Prince Stryder, heir of King Cyneburg." At that instant the old woman left his hand. Stryder smiled, his father's name could do wonders. When Stryder looked up, he noticed the woman's face properly for the first time. She stood as if she was old, but her face held a kind of power, her eyes radiated a light of its own. The strange thing was that Stryder was not able process the woman's face. It was if there was a face, but Stryder was seeing right through it except for her eyes.
"Who are you?"
"Someone important, didn't you get it the first time? How is Cyneburg doing these days?" The woman kept Stryder's cross-bow back on his horse's saddle.
"He is lost."
"Lost, eh? Never thought he would ever get lost with all of that fancy star-gazing art that he learnt."
"The stars are of no use to someone in the Plains. He had gone to meet and offer his congratulations to the new King of the Plain. Most say that the Plain Folk have him, some say he died fighting them, some say he is at sea. There are a thousand versions to a thousand versions."
"Cyneburg would walk to his pyre rather than riding a boat." She giggled a little in half old woman, half lunatic manner. At that moment, Stryder felt as if someone had turned the lights on, which died as soon as the old woman stopped laughing.
"You are not human, are you?"
"I am many things, but better known as Getricia."
"Getricia? As in the Mother?" Stryder gasped in amazement. "You must be kidding." He stepped back, threw back his head and gave a smirk.
"Am I?" The woman's eyes turned red. "You better guard your tongue."
"I am sorry, I...I am in a tough situation. I have to return to my castle with a catch to show off." Stryder's shoulders dropped.
"I see, for the Priest Federation, am I right?" She asked, Stryder hung his hand. "Now it makes sense."
"What makes sense?"
"Something important." Getricia smiled. "There is something better than a dead white stag."
"What?" Stryder asked, puzzled. "A dragon?" Getricia hit Stryder hard on his legs. He almost collapsed, but was saved by his horse.
"A live white stag." she whistled, in a voice lighter than the rustling of the wind. But within moments, the stag was right before her, kneeling. It was massive, almost as big as Stryder's horse. She rubbed his finger along its head. The stag went over to Stryder the next instant. "You have to get back Stryder, there are people waiting for you."
Stryder got on his horse, the woman got on the stag. He rode a few feet ahead of her, as a mark of respect. Just as they were on the edge of the forest, civilization right before their eyes, Getricia spoke once again. 
"Stryder, the most horrendous year of your life lies ahead. You might think that it is a mortal matter, but you will represent and execute for a few of the most important beings in the Realm. My children and their children and their children are going to war, a war which has its fait resting in the hands of mortals. I do not mind which side you chose, but do not cower Stryder, no even when hope seems too futile an option." Her voice faded away.
Stryder looked back, but there was nothing except for the stag, which ran forward to Stryder. He looked at the woods, not sure if he had been showered with blessings or trouble.

Prologue

"It is something in the air Fendrel, I am sure it is," the Commander told Fendrel. "You know, the monotony of plain waves that precede a huge hit." He stood in the way of the torch that lighted the frontier bastion of the castle that Fendrel had been stationed at.
      The roof of the portcullis was really cold, Fendrel shivered twice, hugged him self and lowered himself to a barrel. Nights in the North Deserts were supposed to be as cold as the ones in damnation.

     "It must be so sir." Fendrel squeaked. The Commander was from the Broken Lands, a towering man of six and a half stones, his face covered in a perfectly trimmed beard that looked to good to be artificial. Fendrel was a wandered and had been enlisted in the North Deserts Guard Corps against his wish. 

     Still he had risen to captain, but that was no good. When promoted to the much envied position of captain, one would often rejoice for nothing would lie ahead except for fat files on expensive desks.That was not the case for the Guard Corps, they would be stationed on the ridges and rises of the kingdom, on the shores and coves, anywhere within the territory of King Cyneburg.

     There was a sharp screech, the Commander had taken out his sword, examining it in the low light. 

"It is just amazing how they have advanced Fendrel. A hundred years ago, we were almost primitive, we fought with nothing but un-capacited swords made of Copper. Do you know why we add streak capacitors to swords Fendrel?"

      "No Sir. I do not." Fendrel did not bother to speak more than ten words per answer.

      "Carbo-Copper in reality does not have Carbon or Copper. It is actually named so for it exhibits the desirable properties of both the elements. An adept once told me that Carbo-Copper in its true form is a substance so sinister that if it is not controlled, it will consume everything within its reach. Streak Capacitors are needed to control the extent to which we let the Carbo-Copper disintegrate the environment that it surrounds."

      "I was told something similar, but how is it that when the capacitor breaks the sword becomes useless instead of becoming more powerful?"

      The Commander laughed, that mad Fendrel shrink a bit. "Carbo-Copper is more expensive than the rarest of red rubies. What we use, rather what most soldiers use is one part carbo-copper with other metallic blends,"
       "You use the pure form don't you sir?"
        The Commander had just opened his mouth when the familiar Ivory Horn trumpeted loudly. A Pink lizard Horn countered it, twice.
       "Told you, something in the air." The Commander smiled, donning his heavy armor. "If I see you once more Fendrel - I hope we meet on this side." The Commander's round eyes shined with blood lust as he covered them with his helmet before riding out.

The hour that followed was nothing but a living nightmare. The enemy, whoever they were, had ringed into them from the front and the west. The east and he back portion were protected just because they were surrounded by cliffs that were as high as nine hundred feet.
         Their sheer number was enough to make anyone flee, the only reason everyone stayed was there was nowhere to flee to. Fendrel saw men die everywhere, at every station.
        Fendrel knew the end had come when the enemy had managed to set alight the West wing. Now all that remained of the Corps was ten men except for Fendrel, who were in no position to fight. That was the reason, as acting commander of forces, Fendrel had locked them behind a hidden trapdoor in the keep of the castle.
       Gripping a new sword in his hand, Fendrel braved himself enough to a room on the ground floor where he thought he had heard footsteps when he was moving the last of the injured soldiers. When he pushed the door, he found the man he needed the most and expected the least - the Commander.
     "Fendrel," the captain exclaimed. He was looking out of the window as if there was nothing special about that night, that hour,
         "Who are they sir?"
       "Bloody Plain folk. The Pink Lizard horn is their peculiarity. Is there any survivor? Any fighter?"
        "No fighters, but there are some survivors. I hid them behind  the trapdoor in the keep. What do we do now?" There was a long sullen silence.
       "Do you trust me?" The Commander smiled, as a examiner would smile in front of a student who was as enlightened as a cow.
        It a while for Fendrel to answer that. "Yes Sir."
        "Then I need you to go out that window."
       Without even asking the reason, Fendrel went out of the window. The Commander followed him. "You must obey me now Fendrel." The commander breathed on the back of Fendrel's neck. "I need you to run the first chance you get, and talk to no one about you. The actions that I will now take will be as Commander and you will help in making my plan a by running as fast as you can."
        "What will you do now, sir?"
        "I surrender." The Commander shouted. Within minutes all the enemy forces had surrounded them. The Commander demanded to talk to their leader, only to find that there was none. It was in the next moment that Fendrel heard from the Commander what he had never heard before, although he had known it.
         "I am a Secondary. One of you, follow me and I shall take you to our true leader."
     Everything was happening beyond the speed of Fendrel's comprehension. They asked the Commander some questions that only a Secondary would know the answers to. Then, like sheep they assembled and headed towards the West Wing. The Commander had told them not to bind Fendrel, but simply tie his hand to a tree.
         Now the Commander was leaving with the procession. Just when they were near the armory, nine hundred feet away from Fendre lthe Commander shouted, "Remember Fendrel, there is nothing as deadly as pure Carbo-Copper."
           It was a long distance, but the Commander's words carried. It was  with those words, that blast that Fendrel experienced the true meaning of the word Power.
     


   

Pilot Post

About me

Greetings, lords and peasants, I am Aditya R Chaudhary, otherwise known as Arkus Quicksylver. I bring to you this blog in hopes of spreading my just short of splendid writing wherever the Sun shows its face (or rays). While I can not ensure that you will not waste your time by reading the stuff that is uploaded on the blog, I am pretty sure you will enjoy this.

About the blog. 

The blog will feature posts every Sunday (One Chapter) and Tuesday (Preview or query answer or corrections). Obviously, first chapter will always be pinned on the first page. Today (18 August) will feature nothing. I am always fishing for compliments but criticism is more welcome.